


B-E-A-N-I-E

by canistakahari



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hats, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 07:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones hates Jim's new hat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	B-E-A-N-I-E

**Author's Note:**

> Written for one of the daily picture posts at jim_and_bones in response to [this photo of Chris Pine](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v424/canis_takahari/000b2ksk.jpg) and the ridiculous beanie he is wearing. This fic is just as ridiculous as that hat.

"What the hell is on your head," snaps Bones, in that flat tone of voice that implies he's not actually asking a question to which he particularly wants an answer, just exercising his God-given right to express outraged displeasure on any subject.   
  
Jim's hands fly protectively to the knitted beanie sitting on his head, his face scrunching up as he peers suspiciously at Bones. "It's a hat. H-A-T,  _hat_. A semi-circular garment used to keep your head—"  
  
"No, it's a  _beanie_ , B-E-A-N-I-E, and it's also stupid, S-T-U-P-I-D," interrupts Bones uncharitably. He stomps a little closer to Jim, backing him closer to the wall, arms outstretched.   
  
"Stay back," warns Jim, fingers gripping the hem of his hat as he backs away from Bones. "I require a five-foot buffer between us when you've got that look on your face."  
  
"What look?" demands Bones in what he probably thinks is an innocent voice. "I haven't got a look."  
  
" _That_  look, the one that says  _I eat beanies for breakfast_ ," mutters Jim, narrowing his eyes. "I like my hat. Go away and leave us alone."  
  
Bones stops advancing on him, mentally re-assessing the situation. There’s a moment of tense silence. Then, when his sulky, offended expression melts into a wide, terrifying smile, he apparently makes the decision to come at things from another angle. A twisted, disturbing angle in which Bones is now  _grinning_  at him like a demented shark. Jim's stomach goes plummeting into his toes with a suicidal scream.   
  
"Oh my God," says Jim weakly. "You're not going to eat my hat, you're going to  _swallow my soul_."  
  
"Unless it comes out your dick, no, kid, I ain't," says Bones soothingly. That doesn't make any fucking sense at all. Since when does his dick have to do with anything? Well, okay, his dick has a  _lot_  to do with things, most of the time, and—  
  
—And Bones is on his knees, now, scooting between Jim's legs and nudging them wide, his long, deft fingers gripping Jim’s thighs. The sight of that dark head between his legs, eyes flashing pale murky green, a flicker of pink tongue visible between plush lips— _damn_. Jim whimpers. As if that noise isn't embarrassing enough just the once, he repeats it throatily when Bones undoes the zipper on Jim's jeans _with his teeth_.  
  
Jim’s fingers are still clamped numbly around the edge of his hat. He watches, in slo-mo, as Bones peels his jeans open, shucks his underwear down with clinical precision, and tugs Jim’s rapidly-filling erection between his hot lips.   
  
“Oh my God,” repeats Jim, thumping his head back against the wall, the pain muffled by the soft fuzzy monstrosity wrapped around his skull. “Bones, you’re—how do you— _oh my God_.”  
  
Bones makes an encouraging muffled noise that thrums through Jim from cock to balls to spine and digs his fingers into the soft flesh of Jim’s inner thighs. His tongue is warm, knowing, expertly seeking out all the tender places that make Jim shudder and moan. In the midst of all Jim’s mindless pleasure, sensation crashing down through him like a rockslide, his hands lose their grip on his hat and fall to Bones’s hair, tangling in the thick dark strands and  _pulling_.   
  
Jim can feel Bones smile around him and suddenly redouble his efforts, apparently determined to suck every ounce of rational thought and self-control right out of Jim’s body via the convenient conduit of his cock. His tongue flicks over Jim’s slit, then slides wetly under the shaft from root to tip, and Jim yells, slamming his head against the wall again with reckless abandon and crying out as he comes, his vision filling with that light-headed pastel blur of frantic, kaleidoscope colours that usually accompanies getting up too quickly. Rubber-kneed, Jim sags bodily against the wall, panting raggedly through his nose, Bones’s hands the only support keeping him upright instead of collapsed boneless on the floor. Hazel eyes fixed intently on Jim, Bones deliberately swallows, long throat working. He slides off Jim’s cock with a slippery popping noise, semen glistening obscenely at the corners of his lips before his tongue darts out to chase the drops away.   
  
For a moment, all Jim can hear is his pulse rushing in his ears like a storm heard from beneath the surface of the ocean. Bones eases back, lets Jim slide down the wall until he’s sitting on his ass, legs spread wide, knees pulled up with his feet flat on the floor.   
  
“Good?” asks Bones, as if he doesn’t already  _know_.  
  
Jim grunts.   
  
By the time he remembers, Bones has already leaned forward and snatched the hat off Jim’s head with lightning speed. It disappears into Bones’s back pocket, and Jim flails for it weakly.   
  
“You sneaky bastard,” whines Jim. “Underhanded, traitorous, fashion-deprived  _reprobate_.”  
  
Bones slaps at Jim’s waving hands, dislodging his grip easily. Suddenly his own hands are on Jim’s head, fingers stroking through his hair with haphazard glee, mussing it hopelessly. He raises an eyebrow and gets to his feet, eyeing Jim with a critical stare and then nodding in evident satisfaction. “Your hat has a date with the dryer, Jim. By the time you get it back, it won’t even fit on the head of your dick.”  
  
Jim thumps his head against the wall behind him once more, for good measure, and  _sighs_.


End file.
